#no idea what my younger self was cooking but to this day... there's something about the ocean...

[reactionimagesdaily]

found this one on a post

Fuck, that's good. I love the specificity of it

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Laswell and Nik watch Price play a Rugby match. Part 2.

cw: brief mention of injury, hand job right at the end.

Look, I just love the idea that Nik, Laswell and Price are good friends outside of work. I want to write more of it. All my work is self-indulgent but this is PURE self indulgence.

The plastic chairs were damn uncomfortable and Laswell was pretty sure she could have managed an extra pair of socks inside her boots, but the atmosphere was contagious. Jubilant, loud; people stamping their feet and blowing on their hands in the cold, old comrades meeting again after a long time, families gathered to see fathers, sons, husbands, play.

Plus, she had promised, hadn't she? And seeing her long term friend do something that didn't have the threat of a bullet mixed in was an opportunity she felt she deserved as much as he did.

"Here, Laswell."

A plastic cup of beer appeared in front of her face between the large fingers and thumb of her companion for the day, and she took it in two gloved hands. "Thanks, Nik."

"It tastes very bad," he informed her as he swung his leg over the chair next to her and fell into it heavily, taking a swig of his own with a grimace. "Da. Like barman pissed into a cup."

"Really selling it to me," she chuckled before taking a sip, nose wrinkling. "That is... quite the aftertaste."

Nik shrugged. "It is all part of the experience, and," he ferreted through his jacket, lifting his ass off the seat, and pulled out his hip flask, "ha." He offered it to her first, to which she shook her head, before he unscrewed the cap with his thumb and dumped a generous helping into the top of his drink. "How long?"

"They headed in from their warm up about ten minutes ago."

"Ah, he looked good, no?"

Laswell nodded, her eyes crinkling with her smile as she noted the blush of pride on Nik's face. John Price had, indeed, looked good. He had been rosie-cheeked and energetic through all the drills despite the cold, keeping up with the younger members of his team without any apparent issue.

And, perhaps most importantly of all, he had been laughing and grinning throughout, exchanging banter, and pausing to talk with someone he recognised in the stands, only ending the conversation with a handshake and bump of the shoulders when his coach - a Major something or other, according to the introductory leaflet - bellowed at him.

It was John's boyish glee that had caught Nik's attention more than all the tight woven shorts around thick thighs, the bulging biceps and full chests stretching through Underarmour base layers, and she had watched his eyes blow wide as he fidgeted in his seat, desperate clearly to be closer and bask in John's happiness rather than observe it from afar. She'd sent him for the beer to cool off.

It was an interservice friendly. Navy versus army. A pre-season warm up before the international competition began and the British armed forces would field a composite team of the very best. "Will they win this one?" Laswell asked, chancing another sip of beer and regretting it the moment it touched her tongue.

"Da. The Navy have uh, what to say, fast backs, but their forwards have bad... set pieces."

"Did you understand a word of what you just said?"

"Nyet." Nik grinned. He loved listening to John talk about the game and absorbed every iota of information he could to share in that passion. That didn't mean he was any better than Laswell in understanding what the hell was going on.

"Do you think he'll be selected for the internationals?"

"He has already been asked for his availability."

"Of course he has. Annoyingly, I don't think I've ever encountered an activity that John Price doesn't excel at."

Nik huffed a laugh. "He is an overachiever. Although, not such a good cook. I have never seen someone turn custard into rubber before."

"Aha! A weakness. I will store it for later use."

They lapsed into a momentary pause and watched the crowd find their seats. Nik checked his phone, and then nudged Laswell for a selfie to send to John. They toasted their crappy beers and Laswell conjured her cheesiest grin with a thumbs up. Nik sent it without filters, because he was brutal like that.

Nik (10.15): [image.jpeg]

JP (10.17): good-looking pair of muppets 👍

Nik (10.18): are you feeling ok?

JP (10:19): hammies tight but physio happy.

Nik (10:19): I will help with that later

JP (10:20): countin on it 👌💦😜

"You better not be sexting while I am right next to you, Nikolai."

Nik smirked at her and shook his head once. "He is fine. Nervous."

"You got 'nervous' from that?"

"Da."

"Nervous for a Rugby match but doesn't even bat an eye at leaping from a Hercules into an active firefight with a single page's worth of intel..."

"He feels out of practice. He missed the start of the tournament due to work."

"Ah. Story of our lives, Nik." They missed so much living due to work. Kate had missed the birth of both of her nephews, her brother-in-law's wedding, her sister's fortieth birthday party. So many big life events that would never repeat. But that's what made things like this special. It may be a forces match, but John was choosing to do it. He enjoyed it. Sharing in that enjoyment, that moment of happiness, that was special too.

"They are coming," Nik said like an excited boy on Christmas morning, having spotted the players at the mouth of the changing rooms. He stood with the rest of the crowd and Laswell rolled to her feet too, joining in the cheers and clapping as two lines of outrageously built men jogged out onto the pitch.

Nik and Laswell stood in respectful silence as the band played through the national anthem and the two teams lined up to bray along with it, hands on chests. The British national anthem was a damn drone, but at least it allowed everyone to pull it off. They sat down after the applause, when the two captains met with the referee in the middle of the pitch for the coin toss.

John tried to make the glance into the stands discreet, but the smile when he spotted Nik and Laswell - due to Nik's not so discreet full-armed wave - was difficult to hide. Hands on his hips, he looked down, scuffing the grass with his boot bashfully before turning to listen to the referee outline his expectations.

Sometimes she forgot about the sixteen year age gap between them; he was so brilliant at it all, so driven, so focused and relentless, he was her peer and her equal, but she had already been at the game for twelve years when he enlisted at 16. Whatever she felt in that moment at seeing John so pleased by their presence, his cheeks dimpling in that full-hearted grin he had, felt annoyingly maternal. She necked some beer.

Nik leaned in. "He will choose to receive."

"Mhm."

"Laswell," Nik said, feigning shock as she hid her smirk against her plastic pint.

The navy took the ball with them, the ref jogged backward with his hand in the air, and the two teams lined up. John was the 'fly half', which Kate understood to mean he was the decision maker of the team. It required effective leadership and communication to connect the forwards with the backline and navigate the enemy defence. The perfect role for one Captain Jonathan Price if ever there was one. Which explained the bright yellow captain's band wrapped around his bicep, clashing with the green and white jersey with its big number 10 on the back.

A single peep of the whistle marked the start of the game and the navy's number 10 put their boot to the ball, the rest of the team surging down the pitch behind it. One of the backline received the ball and immediately shipped it out towards the wings to begin making progress in the opposite direction.

The difference between American football and Rugby had always struck Laswell; the ball was the same-ish shape, there were set pieces for different scenarios, but that's where the similarity ended. Rugby was about keeping play moving. It was a relentless, brutal battle down the pitch, with hits that made her teeth shake and no padding between bodies and the impact.

The navy was playing aggressively, forcing the army's backline to reset. Every time the army's scrum half dug the ball out of the breakdown - which was what Laswell understood the huge pile of bodies on the floor to be called - John was there to receive it. He was agile, twisting, turning, everywhere at once; a testament to his own hard work to maintain his fitness and mobility.

One of the navy forwards was too slow off the mark and slammed into John once he'd passed the ball, bringing him to the ground hard with a shoulder to the gut. Nik was halfway out of his chair on instinct, and Laswell reached out a hand for his forearm. "It's part of the game, Nik. An honest mistake." The ref blew the whistle. Free kick.

John rolled to his feet, tugging the legs of his shorts down from the creases of his thighs before plucking the ball from the ground. He chose to kick into touch and gathered his team before the lineout. They hunkered down, listening intently. Laswell could hear his voice in her mind, imagined his tone, and when she glanced off to Nik and saw the look on his face, she knew he was doing the same.

John set the backline, barking over his shoulder and gesturing with his arm to get them in position, once he was happy, he indicated to the scrum half to take the throw in. The ball sailed over the heads of the two lines and found the hands of the army's flanker, who knocked it with practised ease into John's waiting palms. It sailed down the line quick, John sprinting behind the line. The navy thought they were going for a try at the wing and sent their players down to meet it. John cut in halfway and took the ball through a gap created by their miscalculation.

The hulking opposition forwards couldn't catch him once he had the space to open up with long strides, and he pushed one optimistic player off him like he was nothing. Laswell heard Nik breathe something in Russian, leaning forward in his chair, only to leap up the moment that ball touched the try line. She stood with him to clap and he threw an arm around her shoulder jubilantly. "He is so good, did you see? Like a jet, I cannot--" she missed the rest, because he was too busy celebrating, half his beer splashing onto the ground.

An orange five appeared on the scoreboard at first, and then John turned it into a seven when he kicked the ball over the middle bar between the two posts. "A conversion, Laswell," Nik informed her, toasting the scoreboard as it ticked up.

John's try seemed to turn the tables. Now that the army's side had seen the defence clinically dissected, it was like they were more confident in picking those holes. Seven turned to fourteen, fourteen to twenty-one. The navy managed to land a try shortly before half time but their fly half, John's junior by about fifteen years, missed the conversion kick, leaving the scoreboard at twenty-one to five.

Nik topped up their drinks while the two teams disappeared off the pitch, and returned with a flushed face after a suspiciously long time away. "You snuck into the changing rooms, didn't you?" She asked as she took the beer.

"Da," Nik confessed, shifting in his seat. "I did not stay long. He had a briefing to do."

"Of course he did," Laswell said, chuckling. No doubt Nik had gone to admire John in his kit up close; all that clinging lycra and polyester around John's frame. For a man, John had one hell of an ass. She was surprised Nik wasn't foaming at the mouth every time John bent over to receive the ball from the breakdown.

The second half started shortly after Nik's return. The army started with the ball this time, kicking it into the second half and chasing after it to shut down the offence before they could make ground.

The navy had apparently had what John would call a bollocking, because they were back to their form of the first twenty minutes, hitting hard and punishing gaps. Nik frowned as John was tackled for the third time in ten minutes. "They are targeting him," he growled.

"Oh yeah," a man to their left chimed in, "reckon their skipper told 'em to break that one's legs."

"Nik, it's trash talk," Laswell warned as the big Russian suddenly coiled with tension. "They will try to close down any advantages. He's one of them."

She, perhaps, spoke too soon, because the next hit made John stay down a bit longer, and he disappeared under a pile of bodies that dwarfed even him. When he finally got to his feet, there was blood streaming from his eyebrow. The ref blew his whistle and pointed at John's face, then the sidelines. He didn't even argue his case, chucking his armband to the scrum half's hand before jogging over to the medic, replaced by a sub.

Nik had been on his feet throughout, and now tracked John to the sidelines with his eyes, no doubt scrutinising his gait for abnormality. "It is superficial," Nik said, perhaps convincing himself not to vault the stands. "He will go back on."

"After being kicked in the head?"

Nik frowned, arms folded over his chest. He wasn't happy about it either.

As predicted, John returned to the pitch at the next blow of the whistle, his head wrapped in bandages and tape. The army had put up a valiant defence while he'd been off, and did so for the rest of the game, allowing only one more try to sneak through and returning it threefold. The final score at the end was forty-two to twelve in favour of the army, and the boisterous celebrations on the pitch carried on through the sportsmanlike cheers exchanged by both teams, followed by handshakes and cheers for the ref.

Nik and Laswell picked their way through the stands to the main bar to wait for John to emerge from the changing rooms. Another thing she quite liked about this sport in particular was that the players cleaned up in shirts and ties before they were allowed out. She had thought it was a services thing, a hang up about order and respectability, but no, they even observed the rule at club level. It was about respecting the clubhouse, the fans, the game and each other.

It took John about thirty minutes to arrive, his white shirt and green tie neatly pressed, wool trousers belted at his waist. Nik was on him in seconds, one hand taking his jaw, tilting his head left and right, to inspect the cut through his eyebrow. "Nik," John said through a soft laugh, "s'olright, been checked over."

"For concussion?"

"Yeah. Just a stud scrape. Nothin' dramatic."

Nik's hand slipped around the back of John's neck and Laswell could see the desperate desire to kiss his partner flash over his face, but in the end he only nodded and drew away. She sighed. So much had changed, and yet so much stayed the same.

"Kate, you made it," John said, that Quokka-smile in place and big arms enclosed her in a hug.

"Oh, I was in the area." She returned the embrace and then pushed the pint of bitter into his hands. "Well-earned, I think."

"Huh, yeah, 'm fuckin' knackered," he admitted, wiping the foam from his moustache after he took a sip. "A few of the lads want to do a crawl through the local bars, but I'm gonna turn in. Monday's chocka."

"I don't blame you," Laswell said, hopping onto a stool. "I thought you'd play soccer, you know."

"Rugby is a gentleman's sport and the captain is a gentleman." Nik sat next to her, his elbows on the bar. "Soccer is for thugs and idiots, no?"

"Hoohoo, shit, don't let Simon hear you say that, Nik," John said, leaning his hip against the bar at Nik's side. "You'd have to sleep with one eye open."

"So, the Liverpool scarf is just for show." Laswell recalled the tattered old thing hanging up in a frame in John's office. It sat right next to his medals of valour and a photograph of the 141 in Belgrade.

"Naw, once a Red always a Red."

"That means something very different where I am from," Nik said lightly.

Laswell chuckled low in her throat and John threw his arm around Nik's shoulder for a squeeze. They stayed until the man of the match was announced and, unsurprisingly, John had been selected by the team for his try.

He received the award in the same understated way he did his medals; a thank you to his team and to the panel, then 'all the best' before heading back to his drink. Once again Laswell watched Nik swallow the desire to demonstrate the affection bubbling beneath his skin. She was glad for Nik that John would require plenty of care this evening; an opportunity to dote to his heart's content.

Despite the generally positive experience, she was glad to flop into the backseat of Nik's hired Audi, watching the streets of London flit by as they left the pitch behind. By the time they dropped her off at the hotel, John was struggling to keep his eyes open, slumped low in the front seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as if to hold himself together. She exchanged a look with Nik in the rearview mirror, the creases around his eyes betraying his knowing grin. John was clinging on for her benefit. Sweet, but unnecessary.

She opened the door but leaned forward to squeeze his shoulder before stepping out. "Well done today."

"Cheers," he said sleepily, one of his big paws parting over the top of her palm. "Thanks again. 'ppreciate it."

"Any time, John. I enjoyed myself. See you soon."

She patted Nik's shoulder too and he touched her wrist in return, before she left them to head to a well-earned rest in their Premier Inn. Hopefully a kiss too, or Nik might just implode.

--

Nik managed to convince John into a bath with the promise of a glass of whiskey. Without it, he would be stiffer in the morning and not in a way they could enjoy.

Once John was settled amongst the bubbles, Nik sat at the side with a pillow beneath his rear, one hand in the water to stroke whatever part of John happened to be near, while the other held a novel open against his thigh.

"Thanks for comin' today," John said in the comfortable quiet. His voice was soft, his eyes lidded. He had sunk lower, the waterline lapping at his collarbone.

"Of course. I enjoyed watching you in your element, John."

"It was the... uh, first time someone's come t' see me play."

Nik let the novel fall closed and twisted, resting his chin on the edge of the tub. "Have you not invited the sergeants, or the lieutenant?"

"Ah, they have better things to do 'n come and watch me play rugger at the weekend."

"I think you underestimate how much your team loves and admires you."

John hummed in the way he did when he wanted to argue but knew it was a losing fight. Nik got that noise more and more these days when it came to John's perception of other's opinions of him. He had an accurate and pragmatic understanding of his own abilities when it came to work, but that didn't seem to translate into a sound understanding of how much he was admired. The hum was a step forward towards acceptance, in Nik's opinion.

"You will invite them next time."

"Oh will I?"

"Da. And they will feel honoured by the invitation."

"What if I get my arse kicked? Almost did today."

"Then they will be there to pick you back up again, as they are in the field."

John fell silent, heaving a sigh through his nose. Nik gathered his legs underneath him and slipped his second hand in the water to caress the aching body within it. He ran the backs of his fingers over John's chest, down the valleys of his abdomen to the v-shape dips of his hips, and finally to his thighs.

"How are these?"

"Sore. They'll be fi--mm, Nik...'

"Is good?"

"Mmhm."

Nik rubbed his thumbs in firm circles, feeling knots and tension pop beneath them, and watched John's expression melt back into relaxation. He moved from one leg to the other, working his way up slowly across the large expanse of muscle to John's hip.

"Enjoyin' yerself?" John asked, an eye popping open to study Nik's face.

"Da. Watching your legs today was... hm, it made me want to spread them in the shower and demonstrate my admiration."

If it wasn't for the warm water, John would have flushed, but Nik was content by the shy smile he got instead. "In front of the entire team, eh? Filthy git," John mumbled.

"If you would enjoy others watching me make love to you, then I would consider it."

"Fuckin' 'ell, Nik," John said, scrubbing a hand across his face. His body betrayed him though, because the mere thought of it has caused his prick to harden enough to peak just above the surface. Nik tickled up the inside of John's thighs to his sac, fingertips stroking the heavy weight of it in the warm water. John's knees tilted out to give Nik access and he reached for Nik's chin with one wet hand, guiding him down for a kiss.

Nik kissed greedily as he played gently between John's legs, revelling in the vulnerability of his lover's exhausted body surrendering to the tenderness he offered. His tongue swept into John's mouth, licking the taste of whiskey from his teeth, the tip brushing the ridges of his pallet, sucking his tongue, his lips, before sinking lower to kiss his neck.

John made soft noises of pleasure, his heels skidding across the ceramic of the tub, damp fingers winding into Nik's hair. In the warmth of the water, his skin was soft, sensitive, and Nik knew how to touch him. Had spent many a night learning what made John moan and sigh, how his entire body was a map of erogenous zones desperate for a gentle hand that Nik was more than willing to provide.

When Nik encircled John's prick, stroking slowly back and forth, John let out a pleased sigh. "Fuck, Nik... Dunno whether I have the energy."

"You do not need it. Let me look after you."

"Would prefer t' give as good as I get. Ahh, fuck, Nik..."

Nik soaped his hand using the pump at the side of the bath and returned to John's eager prick. Tired he may be, but his body yearned for Nik as much as Nik's did for him. Nik kept a firm pressure, squeezing a little former on the upstroke, precum splashing over the edge of his fist. "John, you are so beautiful... You are so desperate for me."

"Yeah, Nik, haa, ah, god fuck, I'm close already..."

"Come for me then. Do not hold back. I will have you tomorrow, spread your legs and take what I want..."

"Fuck..."

"I know you wanted me to take you in that changing room, your blood running hot--"

"Ahh, Nik, fu--"

"--I know you wanted to touch yourself in the shower, thinking of me--"

"Mm, yeah, yeah, please, Nik..."

"I know what you need, I know how you ache for it, how you want to be filled by my cock and fucked well."

John latched onto the edge of the tub as he came, his thighs and stomach pulling tight, head pushing back as his cock pulsed in Nik's hand. Nik slowed his stroke, milking out the aftershocks as John gasped.

Nik kissed him lightly on the lips as his pleasure faded to throbbing embers, releasing his softening prick to rinse his hand. "Beautiful."

"Just nutted to dirty talk. Not sure beautiful's really the word."

"You do not see yourself as I do," Nik replied, admiring the brightness in those blue eyes, the ruffled hair, the flush. Beautiful was too empty a word for the majesty of John Price, but it would suffice for now. "Time for bed, John. Come."

Nik helped John out of the bath, teasing him about his shaking legs as he helped dry him with a second towel. John slipped naked into the soft, clean sheets Nik wasn't complaining; it would be easier to tease him open tomorrow morning. He was asleep and snoring softly before Nik had even switched the lamp off, the pillow clutched under his head.

Before Nik could sleep, he worked himself over to a swift and gutless orgasm that would allow him to sleep, knowing full well he would be satisfying himself in John come the morning. He fell asleep admiring the peaceful lines of John's face, eternally grateful he had the honour of calling John his.

[cherryredlove]

☆ chinese takeaway ☆

Modern!au Aemond Targaryen x Reader

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Your bestie and flatmate Helaena proposes a banging evening plan: get her brothers over, get a chinese takeaway, and binge the Lord of the Rings. It also helps her second brother Aemond is pretty easy on the eyes and also loves Tolkien.

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: fluuuuuufff (veeery OOC lol but i need some sweetness rn), content warning of cigarettes and drinking

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

Living with Helaena Targaryen is an adventure in itself. She's a wonderful flatmate and best friend. You bonded pretty quickly with her when you both signed up for Valyrian classes at your university, Blackwater Uni, in King's Landing. Her quirky charm is infectious, and the flat you both share is filled with small terrariums and ethereal string lights that make everything feel like a dream. Every night, the pair of you cook together and look after Helaena's array of babies, even if the spiders make you a bit squeamish. You love her, you love her family too.

It’s a lazy Saturday morning after a cheeky pub trip the night before when Helaena bursts into your room with a bright smile, her platinum blonde hair shining in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“I have an idea!” she announces, plopping down on the bed beside you and nearly knocking your jewellery box Nyra got you from Lys off your bedside table.

“You have lots of those, careful not to hurt yourself,” you tease, setting aside the book you were pretending to read for your latest university essay.

“I think we should have a get-together here tonight. A family night! You, me, and my brothers. We could do a Lord of the Rings marathon!” she pokes your arm, wiggling her eyebrows. She knows your weaknesses to a tee.

The thought of hosting a cosy evening (with some extracurriculars) sounds delightful. You’ve always had a soft spot for her brothers, especially Aemond. There's something about his intense gaze and quiet demeanour that draws you in, and your mutual love for all things Tolkien only deepens that sweet connection.

“That sounds perfect,” you agree. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just be your wonderful self!” Helaena grins. “I’ll take care of snacks, and Aegon said he’d handle the food.” You raise your eyebrows. Sounds like this night was happening regardless of your opinion. You grab a pillow and thwack Helaena, who screams lightly and crumples onto the floor, laughing her ass off.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As the day transitions into evening, the flat transforms into a snug haven. Soft fairy lights cast a warm glow, and the aroma of freshly popped popcorn fills the air. You and Helaena arrange an assortment of snacks on the coffee table, including gummy worms (Helaena’s favorite), chocolate-covered pretzels (your favourite) and a colourful array of fruits (only Daeron will touch them).

Aegon arrives first through the door, arms laden with bags of Chinese takeaway and closely followed by his blond brothers. His carefree grin is infectious as he sets the bags down and immediately begins sorting through the contents.

“Alright, listen up! I got everything. Chicken chow mein for me, sweet and sour pork for Daeron, Kung Pao chicken for Helaena, and Aemond, you get your usual, Szechuan beef.” He looks at you with a cheeky smile. “And for our lovely host, your favourite, vegetable dumplings and egg fried rice.”

You smile, touched by Aegon’s thoughtfulness. The last time you'd gotten Chinese was after Baela's birthday 3 months ago, and whilst you expected him to remember your chippy order, this was quite sweet. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” he winks, settling onto the couch with his carton of noodles.

Daeron dives right into his sweet and sour pork, chatting animatedly about his latest adventures at university. He's like a sweet younger brother to you, and you ruffle his hair when he tries to nick some of your dumplings.

Aemond's presence is a bit quieter but no less significant. He offers you a small smile, one that you return warmly, feeling your heart skip a beat.

"Hiya Aemond," you say. He nods, passing you his fortune cookie. He's not the biggest fan, you remember, quite touched he gave it to you and not Helaena, who huffs comically at her loss.

With everyone settled, the movie marathon begins. You and Aemond exchange knowing glances as the opening scenes of 'The Fellowship of the Ring' play. Both of you gaze quite longingly at The Shire, and you feel your heart stutter a little when Aemond glances at you when Arwen declares her love for Aragorn. The moment is broken by Aegon cracking open a Strongbow cider and tossing you a pre-mixed vodka soda can. You sigh lightly and settle in for the movie.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

As 'The Two Towers' progresses, Aegon sprawls across the couch, lazily consuming anyone's uneaten cold noodles, while Daeron animatedly discusses his favorite characters (Merry and Boromir) with Helaena, who favours Galadriel most of all.

"Imagine how useful the gift of prophecy would be," she dreams aloud. "I'd know all the answers on my entomology exams."

You find yourself nestled comfortably between Aemond and the armrest, stealing glances at him whenever Aragorn and Arwen share the screen. His focus is unwavering, and you find yourself asking him about his opinions of the plot, as if you both haven't watched a million times. It's worth it for the smile he gives you as he describes his love of Faramir. You argue Theoden's case with such passion that he laughs so loudly even Aegon is startled out of a snooze.

By the time 'The Return of the King' reaches its climactic battle hours later, Aegon is fast asleep, snoring lightly with an empty carton resting on his stomach. Daeron and Helaena aren’t far behind, having dozed off to the comfort of the couch, nestled under soft blankets.

That leaves just you and Aemond, the room silent save for the movie's soundtrack and the rhythmic breathing of the others.

You catch Aemond’s eye during the scene where Aragorn is crowned king, and Arwen finally steps forward. You like how Arwen and Aragorn's love is quiet almost, all words expressed through gazes. You feel your heart constrict a bit when Aemond holds your hand for the departure of Bilbo.

As the credits roll, Aemond stretches and stands, offering you a hand. “Care to step outside for some fresh air?” he suggests.

You nod, taking his hand as he leads you to the balcony. The night air is cool against your skin, and the city lights twinkle like distant stars. King's Landing is a great city to live in. You love it dearly.

Aemond pulls out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You accept, though you really only smoke for special occasions. You cringe remembering Jace's 18th at Dragonstone nightclub where you tried to chainsmoke. Thank Gods Aemond was there with water to help you.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence, the smoke curling up into the night sky.

“Thank you for tonight,” Aemond says softly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

You smile, exhaling a puff of smoke. “I should be thanking you. I loved every minute.”

He turns to you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “You know, Aragorn and Arwen’s story always resonated with me. The idea of finding someone who sees you for who you truly are...”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. You feel your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you like the gentle glow of a hearth.

“I know what you mean,” you reply, meeting his gaze. “It's about finding someone who understands the depths of your soul.” Big words for a young girl at uni, and usually you'd cringe at such dramatic speeches that are reserved for club toilets with the girls after too many tequila shots, but with Aemond, poetics seem right.

Aemond steps closer, the distance between you shrinking until it's almost nonexistent. The world around you fades, leaving only the two of you bathed in moonlight.

His voice is barely above a whisper. “I think I’ve found that person.”

Your breath catches, the world standing still. The sincerity in his eyes is undeniable, a reflection of your own heart laid bare.

In that moment, words are unnecessary. The connection you share speaks louder than anything you could say.

With a gentle touch, Aemond cups your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin.

And then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s both tender and profound. It’s a promise and a realization, a moment that feels like the culmination of every shared glance and whispered conversation over years of your friendship. His lips are warm and soft, and you feel perfect.

When you finally part, the world around you slowly comes back into focus, the sounds of the city distant and gentle. Aemond smiles, a rare and genuine smile that lights up his entire face.

“Let’s make this a tradition,” he suggests, his voice laced with hope. “Movie marathons, Chinese takeout, and us.”

You nod, your heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

As you stand together on the balcony, the night stretches on, filled with endless possibilities and the promise of new beginnings. It’s a moment that feels both timeless and fleeting, a memory you’ll hold close for years to come.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: im sorry i love writing modern aus, especially for characters that just never stop suffering lol. i just love adding in easter eggs and references to the series and imagining the targs as party animal cuties, not kinslaying weirdos. check out my masterlist for more stuff like this, plz send in any ideas or requests xx

[kimmi-iii]

Hey klee!! I just finished RE4R but somehow I can't stop thinking about RE2 Leon!!! Help!! Got any ideas for some fluff (or smut hehe) surrounding college-boyfriend!Leon?? It might be a little niche but it's consuming and rotting my brain I can'ttt I have a couple thoughts but I'm wondering if you have any headcanons or drabbles on how he'd ask you(or reader) out, would you get to see him between classes (maybe he's in the academy, or maybe he's in college w/ you), hmmm maybe what it'd be like if you were sharing a place... idk something wholesome!! (or maybe a lil spicy but I don't really have any ideas about that besides Leon being a switch/sub)

Omg I'm so into Leon being a switch leaning towards sub :3

Here are my takes/headcanons about Leon Kennedy being your silly college bf!!

Afab!reader

SFW:

-We're most likely talking about RE2R Leon so I could totally see him doing something super cheesy like bringing you roses, face masks, and hugs from behind

-He's 5'8" aka 172cm so he's a pretty tall guy. So hes just 10x taller than you but is such a softie.

-This man can cook!!! Not much to really work with in a college dorm (I'd say so at least but I'm not a chef) but Leon would definitely have a few cooking tricks up his sleeves that are simple and easy to do

-The typa guy to stay up with you to cuddle and watch movies. Depending on the day he might not even pay attention ;)

-Might be a slight self insert, but if you're in a performance arts major/in the school's plays, Leon is definitely there to support you and would go to every show you're in.

-he gives off "beauty and brains" kinda guy. He definitely played some sort of sport in high school. Probably baseball or lacrosse. And he definitely has mostly As and Bs. This man is just so damn good in school--and he looks good? Dream come true

NSFW:

-Since he's in college, he's younger. And since he's younger Leon, he's definitely a sub-leaning switch.

-He's most likely not a virgin but he practically has no experience. So you could definitely pretend he is one

-Just imagine him whimpering and whining on the bed in your dorm room. His poor pink tip leaking precum while he waits for you to stop teasing him.

-"F-fuck--please please please! I-I need-i need you so so bad..." He says as you're kissing all over his body except the thing that needed the most attention

-and when you actually do touch it? Oh the pretty boy is so relieved. You're giving the head of his cock kitten licks as you jerk off the rest.

-but when you start giving the sloppiest blowjob or begin riding him? He's on cloud nine. His cock twitching from the warmth wetness if your mouth--or he's whining and gripping onto your hips and thighs from your tight, wet pussy as you ride him.

-This man probably has the best cum shots. After you climax, you pull off of him and immediately begin to jerk him off. That alone has him gripping at the bed sheets and bucking his hips into your hand as cum spills all over his torso.

-Since he's inexperienced, you either fall asleep next to each other after, or you help clean him up for aftercare

-did I mention he makes the more prettiest noises and cutest faces when you dom him? His little mouth hangs open, his face is flushed and hair sticks onto his forehead

(I would do some for when he's top but I'm in a femdom mood)

[allwormdiet]

Sentinel 9.5

Every thirteen year old in this story is going through hell

Dear Parian, how do you puppet cloth dolls with boxing gloves on their hands?

Nah but this is nice to see them getting along with each other, and I'm glad that Vista gets to see something cute in such a blighted fucking time.

The background levels of desperation and fear in this setting remain very strong and evocative.

Gayyyyyy

Vista like "hey I'm not young enough to actually enjoy this, but I'm old enough to act polite about it"

God that's so fucking cool

Oh man who could have possibly predicted that putting a thirteen year old in constant life-or-death situations with people dying around her could possibly result in a warped perspective on death and dying, that's so weird

Oh man, who could have possibly predicted that enlisting a thirteen year old in a quasi-military policing organization where she's legitimately got seniority over high schoolers could possibly result in feeling distanced from her own age, that's so weird

So like, is there truly nowhere else to put the team portrait gallery than right where everyone sees them every time they enter? Just put them in another hallway or wing or something, especially if you're dropping bodies.

Still a little darkly funny that Browbeat doesn't even get a portrait, guy was straight up too new to even put in front of a camera

The idea that Coil has only managed to infiltrate the PRT at all because they're letting him infiltrate the PRT is. Oh my fucking God he's so bad at this. So far every win we've seen him take against other players is because they feel bad enough to let him have it. Coil, you have got to fucking hang it up my man, the minute someone decides to actually deal with you you're cooked

(It's almost certainly gonna be Taylor, on account of that child you kidnapped and forcibly addicted to drugs)

Okay so like. Hwoo. I keep talking about the expectations being put on the Wards in this fucking story but this is a really steep one. Let this fucking mole into your midst and let him do what he does. Let a tinker, a goddamn superpowered tech specialist, hang out where your stuff is.

I know they all agree to do it but they already all agreed to fight fucking Leviathan, Vista agreed to kill a man for seconds on the clock, we're waaaaay past the point where any boundaries might still be crossed

Hey you know what, self-awareness is good, it's healthy, I wish someone would let Taylor have some but that's fine

Okay, well, at least Piggot is willing to treat these kids a little like kids. And address some of the concerns that they have. And promise that she'll find some kind of compensation for the fact that these kids are going above and fucking beyond in their role as junior heroes.

Glad Kid Win gets a... win

and while I don't love Clockblocker making fun of Piggot, I get it. She's the authority figure in their lives, she consistently plays the role of bad cop with them. That's how it goes.

Okay so Vista turned thirteen on the day that Leviathan hit Brockton Bay, which means she's been at this since she was eleven, maybe younger. This now puts her pretty firmly in the same age bracket as Alec, and that might put her at silver or bronze for youngest known trigger event depending on how old Miss Militia was at the time.

Also, the fact that Vista has thrown herself into her career as a cape, at age thirteen, as a means to not have to spend time with her parents? That's bleak. I continue to maintain that she should be allowed to commit any misdemeanor she wants to and get away with it forever

So Hookwolf almost murdered an 11-12 year old and they truly can't just commit to having a single Triumvirate member sit on his Birdcage transport the entire way along just to make sure he actually gets gone? At least until they're out of the Empire's reach, surely, like what the fuck

Do the unspoken rules not kick in on attempted murder? Do you need a corpse to make it stick?

Jesus God, Sophia, I am trying to keep an open mind about you but so far you have just been such a jerk in so many directions.

Like obviously she's not doing well but what's the alternative for her at this point

Just gotta pick up the slack left by two older, more experienced(?) teammates who had a lot of hopes and emotional bonds riding on them. And Browbeat.

Does anybody on this team like Sophia?

Weld is good people. Also I think "empathetic" is technically the correct word unless the ability to warp space like putty also comes with emotion reading.

This is sweet.

Also, yeah, cry. It's good for you.

Godddddddd fucking dammit Sophia.

This is so unreasonably cruel to do to a teammate, never mind to a kid

"Bluh bluh life is pain, the real world is all about what's hard, suffering builds character" shut the fuck up Sophia, Vista put up bigger numbers against Leviathan and doesn't have a rusty knife in place of a personality.

Also "kids" girl you have at most three years on her

Big bad Shadow Stalker can't handle being the one under the microscope

Yeah no for real, the moment she gets provoked in a way even kind of resembling the way she provokes others, she resorts to acts of physical violence. Thin-skinned hypocrite, thy name is Sophia Hess.

Guess Vista's lucky she's not taller and more gangly or else Sophia would've tried to rip her ear off.

Current Thoughts

Vista is the PRT's strongest soldier and she is out there fighting their hardest battles. She also has not reached high school yet and possibly wasn't even in middle school when she first donned the costume. This whole system is a scam.

Cool to see Weld better settling into the leadership role, at least.

And then Sophia. Sophia, Sophia, Sophia. I don't know what the Undersiders have planned for you but right now I'm having a hard time feeling sympathy. Do unto others, you little maniac.

[mswyrr]

more on michelin stars

I genuinely think it's going to be an important plot point in s3 re: why exactly Sydney wants a star and why *one* specifically. I went and researched and discovered something I used in my fic, which is that one Michelin star restaurants are excellent cuisine that normal people can still afford. And that connected, for me, to what Sydney had told Marcus about how going out was so special when she was a kid and she wanted to share that kind of amazing thing with people:

We didn't really like eat out a lot growing up, so when we did, it felt special even if it wasn't.... I wanna cook for people and make them happy and give them the best bacon on Earth (1x08)

I'm so hopeful/convinced that the research they have with, like, Matty (the chef who plays Fak) right there on set, means the writers know that about what one star places can be like. And that it's meant to be part of this - more humane vision of excellence for Sydney, where their spot is AMAZING, but it's not a cruel kitchen culture, it's not only for the rich.

For her, it’s *part* of her vision, where she says: 

“I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.“ (1x03)

But Carmy sees a star and all it means (all he’s ever known it to mean) as a repudiation of that kind of humanity. You say the word "star" and immediately Carmy goes "fuck stars" (2x01) as pure self-defense - because stars are just pain and suffering to him. They're NYC chef and everything that mess became.

He's so traumatized by the whole thing he doesn't think to ask the right questions: why do you want one? What is your vision for it? Why do you specifically want *one* instead of two or three? What timeline do you have in mind for getting there and how can we strategize on this together?

Instead, because he wants so desperately to please her, despite that instinctive, self-defensive "fuck stars" he relents and asks - okay, are you sure? Are you positive this is what you want? Really?? It's terrible. It's just dread and fear and throwing up every day before work. You really want me to give you this?

(I’ll give you anything you want)

He never asks the right questions. Just assuming the level of pain which is his only experience of this is what the thing IS--playing into that theme about how people only know what they're taught, only know what they are given, and if we are given pain and patterns of it it is so hard to even imagine things can be different and, when you can imagine it, still so hard to actually get there.

(It’s not a coincidence that the ASL sign is one of the few positive, healthy examples of kitchen culture Carmy witnessed - we only know what we’re taught, and it can be hard work to even figure out what “not shitty” IS let alone doing it)

So he's assuming all of that and it's like - if she's his CDC, does she want him to push her as hard as he was pushed? Push himself that hard again? He doesn't want to do either of those things. But that's all he knows. And she keeps saying this is what she wants. And he wants to give her everything she wants.

(In the same conversation she kept saying yes, this is what I want, she expressed admiration for the designer chef outfit he later buys her as a gift - he wants to give her everything she wants, even when it seems like a terrible idea he’s torn about)

I think this misunderstanding is intentional and it’s going to come out in S3. A one star restaurant fits so perfectly with what we know of Sydney’s goals and love for her work! And Carmy not able to even conceive of something better because of the patterns he’s stuck in and finding his way to her vision makes sense for him.

I think Carmy figuring out how this work can be joyful and humane is going to be a huge part of S3. Sydney not becoming lost in the high stress environment, not following in younger!Carmy's footsteps living a life of pure drive and dread, and Carmy finding that for the first time.

I do think that, given where they both end in 2x10, there’s going to be a period of conflict and a real bunch of issues for both of them - but with themes and ideas like this seeded into the story there’s so many ways to make s3 start out in a bad way and then really end in joy in a beautiful way?

[maochira]

big bro baki hangouts!! would would we doooooo🌫️

-🦦

OKAY OKAY SO

Hanging out with big brother!Baki

Tags: gn!younger half-sibling!reader, based on my other older brother!Baki headcanons where reader isn't a fighter + reader lives with their mother

-honestly, Baki is kind of bad at coming up with ideas for stuff to do with you. All he did at your age (and still nowadays) was training and fighting to become stronger

-because you don't live together, you have to plan your hangouts, usually days in advance. It's rare for Baki to randomly appear at your place without telling you first

-sometimes you imagine what it'd be like if you lived together and which one of you would be more likely to randomly go to the other's room to be annoying (it'd be you)

-most of the time he lets you choose an activity, especially if it's one of your hobbies. He's open to trying out anything (mainly to make you happy), but sometimes he gets bored. He tries to hide his boredom, though

-he prefers being outside when spending time with you because activities inside tend to get repetitive quickly

-you often cook together! Sometimes your mother helps as well

-you're better at cooking than Baki, so he learns a lot from you, especially new recipes for dishes he thought were too complicated before cooking them with you

-a lot of your time together is spent just talking. Usually with whatever activity you chose for that day on the side

-Baki tries to give you "big brother advice" for anything you struggle with, but he doesn't know much about regular teenager-life so most of the time he can just offer you support and not give you advice when you have emotional problems or struggle with friendships

-Baki enjoys hearing about your life, since it gives him a look into a more normal life. And in general, he likes learning about you as a person because you didn't grow up together, so he wants to know the experiences that made you grow into who you are

-he also tells you about his fights and other things he's experienced a lot! (If you're sensitive, he leaves out gory details about injuries)

-sometimes Baki teaches you simple fighting techniques! Mainly ones you can use for self-defence

-one time he wanted to do something special with you, so he took you to an amusement park. But then he couldn't go on most of the rides because he's too broad and the safety belts were too short

-then he spent the rest of the day in the amusement park with games, claw machines and whatever else there was. He ended up winning a lot of plushies for you

[frillsinadress]

THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL

characters : daria , zoro , hiyori , robin.

warnings : sad angst, self hating

word count : 1.2 k

authors note : i am infamouse for my angst - its just what i do ! so enjoy some of my lighter content skjfkbnrlskf daria and zoro is such a near and dear ship.. let zoro live w his 7' tall gfmsfujds. set during wano - even tho i never watched wano. eat my jorts if smth is wrong.

“i think you should know— brook said he saw zoro and hiyori-san sleeping together once.” came the quiet hushed words of robin that shattered the once perfectly peaceful day. daria had been mid step, the words barely faltering her stride as the two walked side by side. the group was traveling back to their little hideout, and daria as usual had taken the front of the line to ensure her crew’s safe return. her stopping would cause an alarm, so she kept going. robin watched her expression, darias eyes locked in front of her. she knew robin did not mean any harm in her words— quite the opposite actually — but boy did they shake her mind up. 

had she misread something? missed a cue and lost track of the plot? daria was sur- no certain that her and zoro had been too bound to duty to ever get entangled in a relationship. hell the two had spoken about it several times before, and zoro had thrown the idea of romance right in the curly browed cooks face. 

all the promises, their endless trust of one another, the way they wordlessly covered each other in combat like perfect cogs in the machine. did she read too much into things? 

her stomach twisted, to the point it actually hurt. the walk was blanketed in silence as robin placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder, knowing the battle she was currently engaged in. daria had always been so set in her own ideas to the point where she had no idea how to properly handle such a shift. she never had time for boys or anything! so did she have any right to feel angry or sad that someone had taken the chance? 

she was broken from her little mind skirmish by the sight of their base, letting out a rattled sigh in relief as everyone started to get settled in. 

“if you’d like, we can have a girls night? like we used to hm? i think nami has managed to procure some of that oil you liked.” robin offered softly, genuinely wanting to ease the worry that was clearly shaking the younger girl mentally. daria handled the brunt of many on her shoulders, and now this was another weight for her to carry. daria smiled softly and nodded, wordlessly offering her arm to robin to take for the two to walk back to the girls rooms. 

opening the shoji door revealed the current person that tormented daria’s mind and she felt the floor give out under her. guilt twisted in her gut alongside feelings of sadness and anger. hiyori was stunning. her throat closed as she practically gaped at the girl who looked flushed, 

“oh im sorry! i was told i would be staying with you all, is that alright? did you need the room?” 

robin was about to speak when daria quacked out a reply, works feeling like barbed wire against her tongue, 

“not at all! i was just leading robin back so i could go on recon before bed!” 

robin gave her a side eye, full of concern and confusion but daria shrugged her off. her hand rose to unclasp her holster and slipped the magnificent dawn breaker off her back. 

“do you mind holding onto this for me?” she asked softly, passing robin her greatsword as her friend nodded and took it.

daria turned, and quietly walked out of the perimeter of the base and into the surrounding forest before she could hear anymore. her pace was steady, letting the breeze attempt to comfort her with gentle caresses that cooled her raging mind. for once she let herself try and digest the food in her mind. 

zoro and her had always been honest with one another - or as much the two could anyways. the deeper darker thoughts that plagued them were spilled via the clashing of swords, running through drills to smooth over the wounds from the mistakes of the past. she had always expected their bond would remain as strong as it had. maybe it still had? maybe he had done it out if pity? no, no zoro was not the one for pity or false kindness. 

the sights around her picked up as she then turned the spotlight onto herself. was she the problem? clearly zoro had ended up changing his decision to stay vigilant to only the duty of his dream. so then why hiyori, someone he had met only recently? hiyori was like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day, the kind of person that made you feel at ease just by looking at her. and on top of that, hiyori was kind from what she had heard. 

as if on cue, the world around her blurred into a mess as her pace picked up to a run, her chest's tightness finally caving under the shaking as a sharp whimper left her lips. a blink of her eyes and tears were falling, leaving shiny tracks in their wake. her heartbeat raced and each beat matched the thrumming of her feet against the dirt. she stumbled over the tightness of her kimono, quickly grabbing at one of the edges and holding it up as she booked it further and further from their base. 

as memories raced in her mind, it did what it did best and hyper analyzed each scene — each interaction. this only pushed her further and further down the line of hysteria as she felt everything speeding up with no end of stopping. 

the steady pace was broken by a cracked hiccup, pushing the once impenetrable fortress that was daria off her feet and crashing into the earth. once one thing had broken the rhythm everything did. she beat her hand into the dirt, trying to silence her pitiful sounds of sobbing as she tried to scramble for any chance of recovery. nothing felt right, nothing made sense! she felt achy, lost and exhausted, weighted down as if she once again wore sea stone. this was not something she wanted to deal with, clutching at her hair and curling into herself. her mind rushed through so many thoughts she felt it was going to explode. and the worst part was that it made sense! 

it made sense as to why zoro would choose hiyori. the two seemed like a match made in heaven if she took a look at any trope in any romance novel or play! always the dainty princess with the brooding protector. it made no sense for two fighters to find anything but a sense of camaraderie in their world. she was stupid! so so painfully stupid to ever think that her and zoro would’ve ever had a chance! she was a fool to think anyone would ever wait years for her, especially when other better options lie elsewhere. she thrashed about, trying to grab at the invisible enemy that threatened her peace but there was none. of course there wasnt. she had no right to be angry at something she had no claim to. daria bowed her head to the earth, pleading and begging for it to take her suffering. 

in the game of life — the winner had taken it all, and daria had lost in playing by the rules. 

[widowwaddles]

Don’t Go Baking My Heart - Part 4

Summary: After a breakup, you decide to pack up your life and move to Westview. A coworker recommends you join the local community's cooking class in order to settle into the new town. It sounded like a great idea, you could learn a new skill (that you desperately need) and meet new people. However, nothing could have prepared you for the green-eyed beauty you met during class. Maybe you'll end up leaving the class with more than just a basic understanding of cooking.

Taglist:  @xxxtwilightaxelxxx, @wandabear, @diaryoflife, @supaheroine, @anaaam​

A/N: This part kinda sucks, but I promise the next part will be better.

Word count: ~3.4k

Warnings: self-harm/unhealthy coping mechanism, sad Wanda

Masterlist

Part 3

---

Wanda’s Fairy Tale Ending

Wanda Maximoff was a mystery. You didn’t know much about her or her life, besides the little tidbits and stories she’s told during class, but that didn’t deter you from catching feelings for her. The connection you felt during your first meeting felt genuine and authentic, and you thought she felt it too. By the way, she allowed you to see her in her most vulnerable state, and comfort her - as a complete stranger. The kiss you shared filled you with hope and opened the door to endless possibilities of what it would feel like to have Wanda - to be with her. And it made you so happy, so excited for the future.

Until it, all shattered, and now you were left feeling numb.

Walking back into your apartment, you fell face-first into your couch. You couldn’t believe how a day that started off so good, could end with you feeling as if someone pulled your heart out of your chest and stomped on it. Many would call this dramatic, and you would wholeheartedly agree if this happened to someone else (I mean who falls this deep for someone they’ve known for less than a month) - but fate had an interesting way of grounding you back to reality.

You weren’t even upset or angry with Wanda, the entire situation just left you feeling confused. You didn’t think that you misread the signs going on between you; she kissed you first. You spent the entire day together, so how did she just so happen to conveniently leave out such a big part of her life - her family. She has never brought them up, not even during class. You didn’t think Wanda would be the type of person that would hide something like this, but the fact that she did left you with so many questions. Why would she kiss you if she’s still married? Did you inadvertently become a homewrecker? What were Wanda's intentions with you? How far would things have gone, if you hadn’t found out this way? Would she have ever told you the truth?

A buzzing interrupts your thoughts. Groaning, you pull your phone from your pocket - you had no plans of talking to anyone tonight.

Wanda:

I am so sorry for how things ended tonight. Can we please meet up? I want to explain everything to you.  

She’s been calling and texting you for the past hour, but you weren’t in the best mindset to respond after you left her house. You knew that you should accept Wanda’s request and listen to her explanation, but you couldn’t - at least not now. You weren’t ready to accept the reality of the situation you found yourself in - you were scared of how fast things have changed and what this conversation would mean. You didn’t want to lose Wanda before you even had her, but you didn’t want to be a part of any plan that would wreck the family she built. So you replied with the first thing you could think of before shutting your eyes, ignoring the slight aching in your chest.

---

“Breathe for me”

“I can’t, I can’t!”

“You can” the voice soothes. “Look at me”

Worried green eyes stared at the woman in front of her, who’s refusing to open their eyes.

“Wanda, please” the woman tries again, but firmer. Grabbing the younger woman shaking on the floor, she pulls her into her body. Cradling Wanda in her arms, she whispers into her ear, trying to coax her out of her panic attack.

“You don’t understand Tasha” she hiccups, ripping her body away from her best friend. “You didn’t see the look on her face after Vision and the kids showed up….it was like- “ her eyes flooded with tears as she remembered how you looked as you walked back to your car. “I-It always ends like this, everyone leaves me. What is wrong with me, w-why is it that everything falls apart when I try to be happy?”

Natasha pulls Wanda back into her arms before she continues speaking her self-destructive thoughts. Her heart hurts the longer she hears her friend speak this way about herself,

“Is it bad to say that I wanted this so badly? That for once in my life everything felt right” Wanda admits, voice slightly muffled by Natasha’s shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way, and now that I have and now she doesn’t even want to talk to me. I-I don't want to lose her” her soft cries fill the air.

“Wanda, listen to me” Natasha pulls away, looking Wanda in the eyes. “Anyone would be happy to be with you. Don’t use this as an excuse to stop yourself from seeking out your own happiness. You deserve to be happy and loved, and don’t try to convince yourself otherwise. ”

A soft buzzing interrupts Natasha. Wanda quickly pulls out her phone, her heart races as she sees it’s a new notification from you. Natasha reads the text from over Wanda’s shoulder, and watches how Wanda’s face transforms into a frown by the time she finishes reading. 

“It’s gonna be okay, this isn’t the end,” Natasha says, kissing Wanda’s head as the younger woman sits in her arms. “Just give her some space”, wishing there was something she could do to take her pain away.

 ---

One week later 

“Okay, this has gone on long enough” Yelena yanks the blanket off of you. “It’s been a week, you’re not allowed to mope around anymore”

“I haven’t been mopey” you groan out, finding yourself in a tugging match with Yelena over your blanket.

“This isn’t healthy, you haven’t been to work all week. The only time I see you is when I’m dropping off food, because I know you haven’t left your bed” Yelena was worried when she heard you took sick leave, and it only grew as when you suddenly asked her to stop by your apartment. She could instantly tell something was off with you, and no matter how much she wanted to help you, it was obvious that you didn’t want to talk about it. She hoped that you would open up to her when you were ready, thinking maybe you needed a day or two. So she was left doing what she could to ensure that you are taking care of yourself, which involved dropping off food and dragging you out of your apartment to take a walk to get fresh air. As the week went on, things weren’t getting any better, and she didn’t know how much more of your sudden mood change she could take. “Get dressed, we’re going out”

“Yelena, I don’t-”

“I don’t care what you want or how you feel about it. If you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you, then fine I won’t pry but I’m not letting this go on any longer” she throws a pair of pants and a new shirt she got from your dresser onto your lap. “Get up now” she demands.

You obey, but only because you didn’t have the energy to fight her. You weren’t happy about the situation.

“Where are we going?” you ask from your bathroom.

“It’s a surprise, but trust me it’ll make you feel better in no time,” she says with a smirk that you couldn’t see. “Just meet me in the car”

---

“Is the blindfold really necessary still?” you ask, as you take cautious steps, having no idea where you were or where you were supposed to be going. “I’m sure we’d get there much faster if you took it off,” you say, before stumbling over your feet.

“No, and it won’t be coming off until the very last moment” she catches you from falling on your face. Wrapping an arm around your hip, Yelena continues to “guide” you to your destination. “You might want to get comfortable. Plus this would give you perfect practice for if you were to ever be blinded in a fight” she ends matter-of-factually.

“Now, I’m worried” you stop moving completely. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever I may have done to tick you off, but this is the wrong way to go about it. You don’t need to do this to me, I’m sure we can find a legal and civil way to handle our differences”

“You’re being over dramatic”, rolling her eyes. “We have to hurry, it's about to start” pulling your body with much less grace than before.

“Okay, there’s a chair in front of you, do you think you’ll be able to handle sitting down?” she teases. Muttering under your breath - about being blindfolded still - you attempt to feel the top of the chair to position yourself in the best position to take a seat. After multiple attempts and reassurances from Yelena that she wouldn’t move the chair for “fun”, you sat in the chair with relief.

“Does that mean I can take it off-”

You hear the door open, and footsteps moving at the front of the room.

“Hello everyone, my name is Natasha and I’ll be your instructor for today,” a voice says.  

“Is this a joke?” Yelena says seriously.

Quickly, you untie the blindfold from your face, eager to see what was happening. You look at Yelena to find her staring ahead with a blank face. As you looked to the front you were greeted by a woman with red hair standing in the front of the room.

“You are the last person that needs to be teaching a class, sestra” she jokes. “Where’s Wanda?”

You felt your body stiffen at the mention of the woman’s name. Natasha has a tight smile on her face as she addresses her sister. “She’s a bit tied up at the moment” she ends, with her eyes landing on yours. “But she didn’t want to cancel the class for today, so I’m here to fill in. She had the recipe printed out on these papers” she begins passing out the papers to each person. When she reaches where you and Yelena were seated, her green eyes bore into yours, as if she’s analyzing you. “Can I speak to you for a moment outside?” It didn’t feel like a question, and as you were about to go into the hallway, Yelena stopped you - as if to check if you were comfortable with Natasha's request. You knew this was her attempt at giving you an out, and if needed she would have no problem protecting you from her sister’s wrath.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, before making your way into the hallway, a bit nervous about the upcoming conversation.

Natasha is already standing there coolly, her body leaning against the wall. You walk up to her hesitantly.

“Y/n, right?” she asks

“Yeah” you reply. “I’m assuming this is about Wanda”

“It is, she really misses you, but wants to respect your need for space”

“She’s married,” you say bluntly. “And she didn’t tell me about that or her family before kissing me”

“Her situation is…complicated. But if you’d give her the chance she’d want to explain everything to you herself” she rushes out

“I don’t want to be someone’s mistress. I wanted- I don’t know what I wanted but” 

“And you won’t be, that’s the opposite of what Wanda wants” Natasha tries to assure you, but how could you trust her when the things you witnessed that day contradicted everything she was saying.

“Please just hear her out. I promise that what she feels for you is real. I haven't seen this version of Wanda in years, she’s happy whenever she talks about you. She hasn’t been for a while, so you can just imagine my shock when she told me how long you’ve known each other.” Natasha has a distant look in her eyes, as she thinks of the state Wanda had been in. She was like a robot on autopilot, only living out of responsibility for the people that depended on her…until she met you. She remembers seeing the excitement in Wanda’s eyes as she talked about you.

“I was hesitant about how fast she caught feelings for you and I still am because I don’t want to see her hurt, but right now, she is. She’s going through a lot of change right now, and she thinks she’s lost everything like she is incapable of being happy. You were the last straw, of a long list of things that have been building up. I know this was way more than you anticipated when you first met, but you have to make a decision. Either you deal with it together because she’s worth it or you let her go. I won’t lie and say it will be easy, Wanda is complicated, and she’s been through much more than most can handle, but she finds the strength to go on through the people in her life. You are among the few that she lets in, so if you can’t handle it then you owe it to her to end this limbo you’ve been in and let her go. Let her find someone else”

You feel your chest tighten at the thought of letting Wanda go from your life.

“I don’t want to lose her” you whisper. “But it hurts. It hurts being away from her and it hurts when I think of being with her again after what happened”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not easy. You have to make a choice, for both of you” Natasha says squeezing your shoulder before walking back into the class.

You felt like you were suffocating the moment you heard the door close. You’re only left alone with your thoughts and you are your own worst enemy. Your mind races through the possibilities of your impending decision.

You ran outside of the building, desperately needing fresh air. You choked and fell to your knees as the air entered your lungs. Your vision blurs as you stare at your fingers digging into the dirt beneath the grass, desperately needing something to ground you. You want to cry out for help, but the only person you want is far from your reach, and you had no idea if they’d ever be back. Why was it so hard to follow your heart?

---

Boxes.

Boxes.

And more boxes.

Wanda spent her day surrounded by them, and as the people began to migrate out of the house, only they remained to keep her company.

They were filled with memories of a time that Wanda never thought would end, a time she never wanted to end.

This house marked the start of a new life and now marked the end of one. She remembers how happy she was as she walked through the empty rooms, thinking about how long she’s waited for this moment. She was ready to breathe new life into this house and to make it become a home. A sense of stability she’s been craving since her childhood. She rubs her pregnant belly, imagining how her little ones would run happily around the house like she once did with Pietro. Her hand stills as she thinks of her brother, the only family she had left. She misses him every day, but Vision promised her that the family they’ll create would be worth it. Once they’ve grown gray and old, she wouldn’t have any regrets about what      she     they had to give up along the way.

And looking around her now, this was all she had to show for it. An empty house filled with boxes from a life that was promised to her. A life that wasn’t supposed to have an expiration date. A life she fought tooth and nail for since he implanted the idea into her head at the start of their relationship. And a life that he gave up on, when she first caught his infidelity. And then once more, as he served her with divorce papers after counseling, stating that what she wanted was a fairy tale but even that couldn't save their relationship. They were broken beyond repair, and he didn’t see the point in fighting for them, for Wanda, as it was only prolonging the inevitable. The person she left her family behind and burned so many bridges for, had just told her that she wasn’t worth it. And for the first time in 10 years, she was alone, not even the sounds of the footsteps or loud laughter of her children filled the empty air.

Only silence and boxes surrounded her. And as her mind wandered she could only believe that she deserved this. She was too stupid and naive to believe that she’d be able to get a happy ending after everything. When she looks back at the path of everything she’s destroyed, the bridges she’s burned along the way, it fills her with regret. She yearns for the life she had before and wished she would have made different decisions. It makes her feel guilty to admit this because she wouldn’t have her beautiful boys if she had, the only motivation she had for a while to keep moving forward. But even they weren’t enough to fill the hollowness she felt at that moment.

When she thinks of you, her body shakes from the sobs threatening to rip through her throat. Oh, how her body desperately wishes to be wrapped in your arms one last time. But like everything else in her life, she had gone and ruined that as well. Any hope of you coming back into her life dwindled as the radio silence from you continued. She was afraid of reaching out to you first, believing it would only push you away more but by the end of the week, she had to accept that you had already come to your decision about the future of your relationship with her. She was living in a fantasy land if she honestly believed that you would be able to forgive her.  And maybe this was what Vision meant when he said that Wanda wasn’t worth it, she was a fool to believe that you would think otherwise.

The tears stream down her face, showing no signs of stopping. She hunches over leaning her head against the carpet, her hands clenched tightly in fists as she feels the stinging of her fingernails piercing into her palms. The only thing filling her mind are the thoughts telling her that she deserves this pain. That she deserves much more for all the damage she caused, so grips them tighter until she’s sure that she’s drawn blood. The pain had subsided until all she felt was numbness. Craving the feeling - of something, anything - she uncurls her fist and moves her hands to her hair. She digs her fingers into her scalp letting out a frightening scream that burns her throat until all that remains is a soft hiccuping. She doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want to be alone. The one thing she wanted was you, but you were too far from her reach and she knew you would never come back.

Despite this, she couldn’t help but imagine how things would be if she actually lived in a fairy tale. You would come through her door right now, instantly worried about the state she is in. You would pull her into your arms, and she would grip you so tightly, afraid you'd disappear if she let go. She would hide her face in your chest as she whispers apologies. You would squeeze her against your body even tighter, as you imagine what would have happened had you not come when you did. Tears would fall from your eyes as you apologized for not coming sooner before making her promise that would never hurt herself again. You would kiss her hands, she could feel the stinging sensation from your salty tears mixing with her bloody wounds. She would agree only if you promised to stay and let her tell you everything she should have before. You would say you didn’t care about that right now, before promising that you were here to stay. You would carry her to the bedroom, and lay her down as you searched for something to clean her up with. She would grip your shirt tightly, only letting go after you assured her that you would come back.

“Don’t leave me” was the last thing she muttered before exhaustion overtook her body.

[moonsporemoth]

Caustic x Reader NSFW Headcanons

Caustic x GenderNeutral!Reader (and some extra bits at the end for trans men) Headcanons:Warning: NSFW, Food Kink (slight), Mention of possession, Mention of underwear stealing --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Caustic considered himself a man above simple things like desire. He simply didn't have the time nor interest for it.

*At least that's what he thought until he met you.

*You were also a contester in the games. A good-looking one at that. He was intrigued immediately when you introduced yourself to him as if he was an average Joe.

*Surely you had watched the Apex Games and seen him before? Why were you so nonchalant with him?

*At first, it infuriated him. You acted as if he wasn't this amazing man of great capabilities.

*Then it excited him, to his extreme surprise.

*He liked that you treated him like a normal man, not a psychopath like everyone else did.

*It started slow.

*At first, it was just simple, innocent thoughts about what you could be up to when he was alone. Were you preparing for a game? What did you do for fun when alone?

*Then it got a little less innocent. He thought about how you'd sound in bed. Were you breathy and quiet? Or gaspy and loud? Were you a screamer? Maybe if he did it right, you'd be.

*He wasn't ashamed of these thoughts, but surprised. He hadn't thought about sex in a while, with all the games and hiding he was doing.

*Sure people had made approaches. Usually, younger girls who liked the mysterious vibe he gave off (and the idea of a sugar daddy), but he always declined with disgust.

*But here he was, fantasizing about you the way those girls did him.

*It was awkward at first for him. He'd think about you and then have to work with you in a game. It was often harder (wink wink) to work when he wanted to just take you right then and there.

*Especially when you teased him.

*It was innocent enough. You making jokes at his expense about his stamina in game or how old he was. But it made him want to prove you wrong and fuck you sore right there in the abandoned building.

*Or when you cooked food on off times. It was a love language he found very enticing, especially when you hummed and wiggled your hips while cooking him something.

*It made him want to skip over the meal and have you instead. (Or integrate the meal into bed ;))

*Speaking of food, he loved when you ate in front of him. You weren't really messy, but you weren't careful in the slightest and he enjoyed watching you scarf down your favorite food after a rigorous match.

*It made him wonder (and jerk off to the thought of) how you'd go down on his dick.

*He often spent multiple nights fisting his cock at the thought of you bouncing on him.

*He often came to the thought of you riding him in one of his coats.

*He didn't know why, but he enjoyed "owning" you in some way.

*And don't even get him started on the idea of stealing your underwear.

*It's taken him all of his self-restraint some days to not grab a few pairs and stuff them in his pocket while you had him help with laundry.

(A few extra for my fellow trans men) *He's surprised.

*He didn't know he was attracted to men?

*He's pretty chill with it though, often telling you scientific proof that gender is a social construct to make you feel better if you're dysphoric.

*If you still have a pussy, he'll have you sit on his face for HOURS. He wants to make you feel good.

*Grab his hair while he eats you out and suddenly you're riding him?

*Like? How tf did that happen? Jk jk, he'll give you a warning (and see if you're okay with riding him when you're so sensitive)

*If you have top surgery, he'll trace your top scars with his tongue, looking up at you all the while. 🤤

*If you don't he'll just lick and suck at them like a starved man. (and look up at you ofc)

*He'll also suck you off (whether you have bottom surgery or not). He'll sit there are suck on your T-dick and afterward tell you how nice you taste.

A/N: I think I went a liiiiiiittle crazy with this one, (704 words for a list of headcanons kinda crazy) but to be fair I haven't written in like 4 or 5 months and I actually was able to write this without much trouble… (also this is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr so idk if this is good, but I might start posting here more)

Links: Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LV2Obsess Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_WueKCrCs0&t=550s (don't ask idk)

[psychedelic-ink]

Hello! Let me start off by saying that I've been silently stalking this blog and I love your writing so so much! You're a phenomenal writer and I absolutely love your work❤️

I've never asked for anything on Tumblr before, but regarding your Dark Hearted People series(I know you're dropping a masterlist and I am very patient and will wait as long as needed). Do you think you'd be interested in writing the trio going to Bill and Frank's? I can totally see Ezra being his charming self with both the reader and Frank, while Joel and Bill are off on the side being annoyed that this interloper is flirting with their respective partners so openly.

Honestly you don't evennhave to write this, this is just my way of telling you that your DHP fic body slammed me and I'm thanking you for it😂❤️

You are so incredibly sweet, I'm so happy that you've enjoyed DHP as much as you did. Thank you so much for all the kind words. ❤️❤️

I loved this idea so thank you so much for sending it in! Though, Ezra isn't flirting that hard, he's definitely charming and manages to annoy both Joel and Bill lmaodfvfdb

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 - 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐧

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, foreshadowing of joel miller x f!reader x ezra (prospect)

genre: fluff

word count: 0.5k

summary: you, ezra and joel have dinner at Frank and Bill's.

a/n: timeline-wise this doesn't really make sense but I wanted to write it anyway, can be read on its own. Set before the group realizes they have feelings for one another

It’s awkward. Everything about this dinner is awkward. 

Beautiful, but awkward. 

When Joel had said he knew a place that could keep them safe for a day or two, you were surprised. First of all, you didn’t expect this man to have friends, besides Tess which you might classify as more than friends back in the day. However, you have heard the charming couple’s name quite a few times before; Bill and Frank. 

The sun was beating down on your skin as Bill places a plate of delicate-looking rabbit meat and green in front of you. Joel and Bill sit across from each other, their postures semi-relaxed. Meanwhile, Ezra sits next to you, and next to him sits Frank. Bill sits down with a huff and you get the need to say something. 

“This looks delicious,” you hum, picking up your fork. “Thank you.” 

Bill looks up to you and nods, that’s pretty much it. You notice Frank narrowing his eyes at his partner. “Can you not?” he says clearly and quickly, then he turns to Joel. “It’s been a while since we saw you. How are you?” 

“Good.” 

“Still a man of few words I see.” 

“He is, indeed.” Ezra chimes in, stuffing his mouth full of rabbit and chewing with big bites. “I will be thanking you on his behalf and my own. This is awfully kind and a delicious meal.” 

“Oh, well Bill makes the meals. He’s the cook,” Frank answers with a wide smile. “I just pick the wine—and the friends.” 

You notice Joel glaring at Ezra, the crease between his brows deepening with every bite. They might not like each other, but it’s clear to you that Bill and Joel are made from the same cloth. Their dislike for Ezra is almost instant—though you have your doubts Joel just “dislikes” him—and how the younger man is behaving probably isn’t helping his case. While Ezra is chatting away with Frank, you feel his hand on your thigh. Your skin burns, yet, you don’t move his hand away. 

Your eyes meet Joel’s for a brief moment. He raises an eyebrow and you swallow, turning your attention back to Frank. 

“So Ezra,” Frank says, sipping his wine. “What did you do…before it all went to shit.” 

“Oh.” he looks dumbfounded for a moment, so much so that his hand flinches on your thigh. “I was…uh,” his dark gaze flits between you and Joel. Suddenly you realize he actually never told you what he did before. “I did lots of things. But my passion laid in the arts. Poetry, the piano, writing.” 

Bill raises an eyebrow and speaks for the first time. “A sensitive one,” he cuts into his rabbit right after pointing his fork at Frank. “Frank likes to paint. He's amazing at it.” 

“You have paint here?” you ask. 

“We have a lot here,” Bill answers without looking. 

“We actually have an antique piano inside,” Frank chirps, Bill’s eyes snap to him. You see the silent plea asking Frank to stop. He doesn’t. “Can you play?” 

“I can…” his words trail off, eyes finding Bill’s. “However I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” 

Frank waves his hand dismissively, “Nonsense. Come on.” he points at you and gestures for you to follow. “You come too.” 

Joel makes a sound like he’s about to tell you to stay but you don’t. You grab your wine, glance back at him and swink before following Frank and Ezra inside. 

The last thing you hear is both men cursing in unison. 

[noonmutter]

Best Boy

DWC Feb 2024 Day 4: Vengeance/Satisfaction

Pandaria was already meeting spring with wide open arms, and the cheerful, bright sunlight was almost offensive to Shedwyn's eyes. That wasn't really new, though; everything was almost offensive to Shedwyn's eyes right now. Her fucking husband had gone and got himself fucking titled--legitimately titled, through no effort of his own, the fuckhead--and he had no idea how it'd happened. She had even less idea, and his babbling explanation hadn't made it a whole lot clearer.

The fact that they were shouting at each other about it the whole time probably hadn't helped.

But still.

Fucker.

After they'd gone in circles for about half an hour, and she'd slugged him in the chest a little bit harder than she'd actually meant to, she'd decided it was time for a breather.

"I'm going to Leon's. I need sex in my mouth right now and I don't mean you."

"First of all, fuckin' ew--"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT, ASSBAG OF KEEL."

She hadn't realized she'd been growling obscenities, mostly about her husband, out loud until the younger Ambroce whistled at her from his front door.

"Y'gonna keep me in suspense or kin we take this inside?"

"I want to be petulant and snarl some more and maybe blow something up, but I also want pizza, and I know if I do the first thing I won't get the second."

Leon nodded and stepped aside to let her into the house. "Yer becomin' downright self-policin' these days. I'm pretty sure tha's a good thin', but..."

"Shut up and feed me."

"Fine, but this better be good, y' grumpy li'l shit." He adored his sister-in-law, but that also meant he was a lot more willing to be crass with her than most. She was family, ergo she was tough enough to take a little bit of honest ribbing.

"Food then snark. Please. I want to not be the adult right now."

"Fair enough. Does tha' mean I don't get an explanation? Only if tha's th' case, I'm not gonna make yer fav'rite."

"But--"

"Them's th' rules."

Shedwyn sighed. She would kill a man for anchovies, and the man who did the absolute best thing with them was standing right in front of her, and she was a Lady, god dammit, and... She sighed again. She could be polite for a little while.

"All right."

"Attagirl."

"Don't push it, Ambroce."

Laughing, Leon closed the door behind them and fled to the kitchen to get to work. It was a good thing everyone else had left for their own chores for the day, or the complaints would've started within five minutes of the fishy dish going into the oven. For the most part, the house smelled of salt, generic "fish" smell, shrimp, ham, cheese, and tomatoes, but those first two really overpowered the rest. Anchovies were not popular at the restaurant in Stormwind, but the ones who liked them really liked them, as he'd found out, so he kept a small supply at home for emergencies. Emergencies like his little mana-bomb of a sister having a bad day, for example.

They didn't talk about much of anything while he was cooking. Leon was too focused to offer up much of anything without being prompted, and Shedwyn was in no mood to talk like an adult yet. She was in the mood to pout, and scream, and maybe punch Terry again. She'd had to go through so frickin' much to get her own title set down on paper and into the records that mattered; she'd memorized every stupid word of the stupid Doppelganger Decree of 28 and would probably not be able to forget about it for years. And Terry'd gone and fuckin' farted out a dynasty.

Shedwyn Lias-Ambroce was not strictly speaking a jealous woman, but she had limits. It just wasn't fair!

Somewhere amid the interminable brooding, a steaming pizza appeared on the table in front of her, and the clouds parted. Angels didn't sing, because angels sucked and didn't like anchovies, but that was fine. More for her. The first bite was always the best, but the second through sixth bites were pretty damned amazing, too.

Leon was kind enough to wait until she'd torn through two slices before he cleared his throat. When Shedwyn was not immediately forthcoming, he made his point by taking a slice of his own and sitting down. She growled to herself, then picked up a napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

"Your brother got lucky again."

"...Like yer 'avin' another kid, or...?"

This time, the sigh was loud, extremely melodramatic, and seemed almost to propel her backwards to drape over the back of her chair. "Like he didn't end up dead or promoted at the end of the Gilneas campaign, so he fell ass-backwards into a viscountcy instead!"

Leon blinked, then took a bite of his slice. Nope. Still don't like anchovies. "Alright..?"

"All right? Really? That's the first thing you say? Your brother's a goddamn titled, landed Gilnean nobleman out of nowhere! After all the shit I went through to get my shitty little Barony carved out of Duskwood! Not only does he just walk into some office in Stromgarde and walk out with a title, he walks out outranking me! Which I didn't know I would care about until it happened!"

Leon said nothing, simply letting her unload, as was his wont. His neverending patience pissed her off even more, as was her wont.

"I had, and still have, to work my absolute ass off for every single scrap I've ever gotten or ever will get, and then I have to work even more to keep it, and your bullfuckin' Ambroce luck has Terry just survive long enough! What the fuck, Leon?!"

When she stopped to ask him a question, even if it was a rhetorical one, Leon looked up from finishing off his slice. He calmly licked his fingers, then set his elbows on the table. Then, he set his chin on his hands. "Would it 'elp any if I said it wasn't all luck this time?"

"Well of course it wasn't all luck, it takes a shitload of skill to survive the absolute fuckalanche of shit he's been through, but--"

"No, I mean it was me."

That stopped the little mage mid-rant. "What was you?"

"Th' Gilnean Repatriation Initiative sent out letters somethin' like a month ago. I got one, you prolly got one tha' got tossed out, knowin' 'ow you an' Terry feel about anythin' bearin' th' royal seal of anywhere."

Shedwyn gaped.

Leon continued, "I'm just as much a Gilnean as 'e is, but I've my life 'ere, an' I very much like it. An' really, goin' 'ome does not bring 'appy mem'ries t' th' fore. Maybe I coulda got th' ranch back, but... gods, I don't want it. But I know Terry does. An' anybody 'o'd met th' man fer five minutes knew 'e'd go back t' Gilneas th' instant th' call went out. So I sent a reply with a couple suggestions."

Shedwyn's hair was starting to crackle like one of those globe toys that made lightning strike where your fingertips touched them.

Leon, undeterred, picked up the pizza plate and walked it back into the kitchen.

"My brother is a turd, a recoverin' racist, an' more than a bit of a jackass. But 'e's also an extremely patriotic, loyal man when 'e wants t' be. Tha's admirable as 'ell! Downright noble, even. Apparently they agreed, eh?"

The chair clattered to the floor as Shedwyn stood up, both hands up in front of her, grasping at the air in a strangling motions.

"You- you-"

"Feel free t' tell 'im Leroy says congratulations." He turned and stared her straight in the eye, even as they crackled with arcane lightning. "Elroy does, too."

Later on, Shedwyn would say the only reason Leon survived that meeting was because she didn't want to destroy the house, his spouses didn't deserve that.

Mostly it was because everytime she'd try to gather up the energy to cast something, he'd headbutt her, and she was too stubborn to dodge.

( @daily-writing-challenge @shedwyn )

[lovearah]

I honestly believe in chasing the dreams of my younger self, for they hold the purest vision of who am I truly and who am I meant to become.

I started to love makeup when I was four. My parents do not know why, because no one else loves them as much as me. They didn't know anyone who could've taught me. My dad used to bring home a lot of makeup palettes he bought and I'll spend my day just sitting in front of the mirror, putting tons of colorful eyeshadows on my eyelids. I know it's not perfect, but I was having a lot of fun doing this most of my days.

Then, if I got bored of it, I'd break it into powder and use it to color my coloring books. Sometimes for pretend cooking, but most of the times, for art. Whenever we're outside, I'd only ask for either of two things:

Watercolors, or a colorful eyeshadow palette.

Those palettes with hues of blue, silver and purple. I never used them on my face again.

I love the idea of creating art, it makes me feel happy and calm. I express my feelings using art especially whenever I feel inspired.

I think my junior high school self loved makeup the most. I started putting on makeup in 7th grade. I had a lot of awkward cosmetic phases, but I still love every bit of it because it answers the question 'why?' am I good at it today.

She loves makeup so much it was her dream, her world.

She used to dream about being a makeup artist. But, deep inside, she knew it wasn't going to be permanent.

She loved teaching more.

Fate decided that she'll love the passion of her estranged father.

He's still within the family, but they're not closer than the little me did. She was a daddy's girl. Not until a lot of things happened and tore their closeness apart.

I realized I had a passion in teaching in elementary school. Teachers used to compliment on how I handle the class well and appoint me as a student teacher.

It snapped on me on a random rainy day in 4th grade. I was teaching a same grade class, and saw the look on their faces. Some of them were amazed about the topic, and something ignited inside me because I saw their eagerness to learn something new.

I still taught classes in high school, usually in English classes. Even handled a SpEd class once and enjoyed it. Even learned to do the ASL alphabet so I could talk to them letter-by-letter.

I used to question why I did that, but all I know is one thing:

I have a heart for students, and I am eager to be the teacher I needed when I was a student.

All of it makes sense now. All of my past experiences fit like puzzle pieces on what's happening in my life today.

I am in second year college now. Nineteen, still kicking.

My course?

Bachelor of Secondary Education, Major in English Language and Literature.

My hobbies?

I love painting so much my arts were kept by the art teacher I had in my freshman year. Also graded as one of the highest in my class.

How about the makeup journey?

I started doing makeup as a sideline in junior high school. I still do now. There's people that recommend me to people they knew, and it is growing.

This year, I started affiliating and my UGC journey because I wanted to explore on how far this younger self dreams take me.

If you're lost in life, just ask your younger self.

They might know more about yourself than you do now.

[krenenbaker]

I wish that TWST would let us interact more with Kalim and Jamil. I know we already interact with them a lot but rarely ever on their own after the Octatrio crash the party.

I think Yuu and the Scarabia duo would have a really fun dynamic, especially if Yuu was younger than them - not necessarily a child but like. 16. Or barely a couple months younger than them. Both of them would immediately adopt Yuu the moment Yuu is perceived as smol. Kalim would try his best to spoil Yuu and be the fun but completely irresponsible and crazy parent and Jamil would be the “No that’s an absolutely horrendous idea stOP”. As Kalim matures more and becomes more competent maybe they’d start bickering like a married couple.

But imagine Kalim having “custody” for the day while Jamil is really busy w/ a basketball tournament or something. He’d treat you to ice cream or some other treat and take you to the treasure room and you spend the day with him picking up treasures and coming up with stories behind what they are. Then when tournament time came he’d take you on a carpet ride to go and watch and cheer on Jamil.

And then Jamil takes over the “parenting” roll when he’s cleaned up and ready, sends Kalim to go take care of housewarden business and cooks dinner with you while you ask him about his match and console him if he lost or celebrate with him if he won. Sometimes you both steal and eat the ingredients as you’re cooking, and, if Jamil’s in a good mood, you “accidentally” throw flour at each other for fun.

Then after dinner it’s dark and neither of them want you to go home in the dark so Jamil gets you a room (right near his and Kalim’s) and then Jamil helps brush your hair or something while you and Kalim tell him what you got up to while he smiles and rolls his eyes at your antics. Both boys then encourage you to sleep early (regardless if they will or not) and if you had a bad dream one or both of them will come and stay in your room that night and just-

Happy family Scarabia is one of my favourite things 🥺

Sorry for the essay lol, I have a lot of thoughts about this XD

GOSH YES

First off, this is an adorable idea??? heLLO??? Kalim and Jamil working through their issues, and healing, and finding fun and companionship alongside each other, and Yuu?? Being friends and caring for each other?? I love it!!

I also love the idea of Yuu being older, and being a sort of mentor / weird older cousin figure for them. Being both supportive, but also an absolute weirdo - helping them both find their sense of self outside of their roles, and having fun in the process :)

[thegirlwiththeblush]

Honest

- Love Quinn x Reader

- Word Count: 2,484

- Shared prompt with @vorsdany

Summary: Reader pursues a crush on Love Quinn, only to discover she’s not exactly what she seems. 

a/n: sometimes i just throw words together and they’re not great but i try

I’m not sure what it was that first caused me to fall for Love Quinn.  

It’s not that there wasn’t anything about her that stood out; quite the opposite, in fact. In a city full of self-absorbed, fame-hungry narcissists, her kind heart and unreserved smile were a sight for sore eyes. She never forgot a face, and she never refused anyone her time or her effort. Being the younger sibling of her twin brother Forty’s best friend, I’d had the opportunity to watch her grow into a strong and generous young woman.  

So it was really no wonder that I’d taken a fancy to her. But I wanted to know why it took so long.  

I remember the day I figured out that I was attracted to her; it wasn’t that the feelings developed then, but rather, it felt like I stumbled upon them, already existing, hidden deep in my mind.  

The four of us had been out picnicking, a rare opportunity we’d taken when the Quinns had the day off from Anavrin and my brother wasn’t working on one of his hundreds of projects. When our brothers had decided to crack open some beers and start discussing business concepts and Forty’s never-ending script ideas, Love and I excused ourselves to sit mindlessly and make daisy chains.  

“Y’know,” Love said, breaking the silence as she gently split a stem, “these are actually two flowers in one.”  

I raised an eyebrow in intrigue, waiting for her to elaborate. A lock of hair slipped over her shoulder from behind as she leaned forward, continuing.

“The yellow in the centre is a separate bloom from the petals,” she explained. “It turns out a plant is better at multitasking than humans are.”

I chuckled at her joke and returned my attention to my task. She began humming softly, a tune I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but the melody moved something in me. I looked up at her again, taking her all in; her hair draping into the long grass as she leaned forward, her long, slender fingers working delicately. She ceased her humming for a moment, and without moving her head, her eyes darted up to meet mine, a small smile breaking her focus as she caught me in the act. Then, as if nothing had happened, she continued her song, murmuring the lyrics, and even shuffling closer to me.  

The solace I found in her presence in that moment, the sense of safety and absolute comfort, awakened something in me.  

Hardly a day went by once I discovered my feelings for her that I didn’t pop in to Anavrin. I didn’t always say hi; sometimes I’d just watch her through the kitchen window, admiring her focus and enthusiasm as she baked and cooked for her friends. There was a good chance she knew I was there; if I ever encountered her in the store, she’d flash a knowing grin at me, as if she was proud of keeping my secrets to herself. Occasionally I was invited to events with her, Forty, and my brother, but these were rather infrequent, and far from enough to feed my curiosity, so I had to resort to my little spy missions.  

“I honestly don’t know why you like her so much,” Delilah said as she sipped at her smoothie. She sat across from me in our favourite café, an umbrella over our table protecting us from the unforgiving Los Angeles sun. I shifted shyly in my seat, the sweat on the back of my legs gluing me to it. Delilah was one of my closest friends, but she was never one to mince words, even with those she cared about; not to mention, with her independent mindset, she probably wouldn’t call me one of her closest friends.  

“The Quinns are just a bunch of rich, stuck-up bitches,” she continued, pushing her shades up to the top of her head as she sat back. “Love’s the only decent one, but even if she was worth it, I’d never marry into that family.”

No one said anything about marriage, but I could see her point.

“It’s nothing, really,” I insisted. “It’s probably just a passing fascination, honestly; no one else here is interesting enough.”

I expected her to get snarky about me inadvertently calling her uninteresting, but she simply stuck out her lower lip and tilted her head in agreement. “Everyone thinks they are,” she pointed out.  

Unfortunately, she had a solid point.  

That afternoon, after Delilah had gone back to the hotel she managed to check in on her younger sister, I gave in to my tendencies and headed towards Anavrin. I wondered if the other employees there were wary of me, always coming in and, most of the time, leaving with nothing. Not that it was going to stop me, but I didn’t want to come off as some loiterer or stalker.  

“Hello, again, stalker.”

I spun round to face Forty Quinn, raising an eyebrow to appear confused by his accusation. He smirked, not at all convinced by my ploy. “You have a contender,” he added innocently, gesturing in the direction I had been heading. Turning to follow his gaze, I saw a young man around Love’s age, chatting casually with Love. I blinked rapidly; she looked so engaged, so enraptured by him, that I immediately felt jealousy bubbling up in my throat.  

“You’re jealous.”  

I turned back to face him, shoving my emotions down. “I’m not,” I argued calmly. “I’m very happy for her actually.”

“Mhm.” He nodded sarcastically, obviously not buying it. “Maybe you should’ve made a move sooner, huh, sport?”  

I squinted at the nickname but didn’t have the courage to roll my eyes. Who knew what Forty could do to me if he got wound up. Instead, we both continued spying on the newbie and Love. They were too far for us to catch the entire conversation, but I heard enough to figure out his name was Will, and he’d just been hired to work in the Anavrin café. So he’s gonna be sticking around? Damn it.  

 It was Forty’s turn to raise an eyebrow at the long, wistful gaze they exchanged, before Love excused herself, leaving Will to watch her while Forty and I ducked behind a bookshelf to avoid Love.  

“Something definitely just blossomed there, sport,” he whispered to me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m gonna have to keep a close eye on this Will guy.” He looked at me with a glint in his eye. “And you’re gonna have to up your game.”  

I left before I could get myself caught up in any more of Forty’s scheming, but not before buying a frosted bun from the café so as not to look suspicious.  

I wasn’t really sure what to expect when it came to Will. Love had never been interested in anyone since her husband James had passed; I’d always used this as an excuse for myself not to approach her with my feelings. But as I continued my little missions to Anavrin, and the more I observed Will, the more I began to question any chance I could have with the older Quinn twin. His character seemed so much deeper and more interesting than mine. He organized the bookshelves and stands in such a way that made him seem worthy of managing the store. Even Forty had taken a strong liking to him, enough to make me feel a twinge of jealousy.

“A good story cannot be devised,” Will said, speaking as if poor Forty could recognize literary quotations outside of comic strips and B-grade movie scripts, “it has to be distilled. That’s Raymond Chandler,” he added when Forty had no reaction but complete dissociation.  

Forty slapped Will’s shoulder in delight, saying “Exactly!”, trying to give the impression that he’d felt Will’s sentiment in the depths of his soul. The quotation would’ve been better appreciated by Love, and I hated that.  

Forty stepped back, surveying Will’s face in deep thought. “Sport,” he said. “Come with me to Harold night after work. I’m talent scouting.”

I turned away before I could catch more of the conversation and let it sting me any more. Sport. That was my nickname.  

Forty wasn’t the one I was trying to win over. But if he was a harbinger of what was to come, things weren’t looking so good.

As if things couldn’t get more complicated, my brother was offered an amazing business proposal out of state the very week I spotted Forty and Will chatting. A golden opportunity, there was no way he could turn it down; and while I’d never left California, there was no way I was sticking around if he wasn’t staying. Not when my two best friends were being snatched away from me by some tall, gangly nerd.  

Unless.

Maybe there was still some chance I could win Love over, if I was finally honest with her.

The next time I came into Anavrin, Love was in the kitchen; fortunately, the Quinns had given my brother and I complete access to the store, and most of the staff knew me. I made my way through the halls of lockers, fighting the urge to flip off Will as I passed him.

I opened the kitchen door softly so as not to startle Love, and blushed a little when a surprised smile came over her face at the sight of me. “Good morning,” she greeted as she slid some oven mitts on, “care for a muffin?”

I closed the door behind me and pulled up a chair next to the counter. “What kind?”

“Apple cinnamon,” she replied. I bristled as a wave of heat from the oven washed over me, and Love removed a tray from inside. The most tantalizing smell overwhelmed my nostrils, and my mouth immediately started watering. Good Lord, I was gonna have to be at my most vulnerable during this difficult conversation; I really had my work cut out for me.

  “What brings you here, other than my unmatchable baking skills?” she asked. She handed me a muffin on a paper towel, the sweet aroma floating up into my face. I breathed in deep before answering.  

“I’m sure Forty’s told you about my brother,” I began, before blowing on the muffin and taking a bite. An impossibly perfect texture; it held its shape when bitten into, but melted in the mouth. Why did everything she did have to be absolutely flawless?  

“Yeah, he mentioned it yesterday,” she agreed, leaning back against the bench with a muffin of her own. “I’m excited for him! Are you moving with him?”

And here we were. The moment I’d denied myself for so long, but had no choice but to face now.  

“That’s actually why I came to see you,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m not sure.”

She tilted her head curiously. “Where do you feel more drawn to?”

I took another mouthful of muffin to stall myself up, before looking up to meet her gaze. Swallowing hard, the cinnamon flavour suddenly making breathing more difficult, I mumbled, “I feel drawn to you, Love.”

She grinned widely. “Aw, that’s sweet! I think you’re a great friend, too.”

I closed my eyes slowly. She was only making this more difficult. I bit my lip before adding, “I’m drawn to you in a way friends don’t understand.”  

I didn't open my eyes. I was afraid of what I'd find; embarrassment? Disgust? A mix of both? My chances with her seemed to be growing slimmer the longer I gazed at the back of my eyelids, so I finally gave in and looked back up.  

But what I saw deeply unsettled me. Her gaze had turned dark, her beaming expression completely erased.  

“You don’t want me,” she murmured, her voice and tone lowered to an almost-deathly note. “Trust me.”

I blinked, putting the muffin on the bench behind me as I tried to recover my voice. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” she continued. “What I’ve done.”

What was she talking about? The way she spoke, it didn’t seem like she was just talking about relationships...

“Listen,” she said, stepping away from the bench and towards me. I felt as if I should get up and step back, but I didn’t move. “I think it’d be wise if you moved with your brother, okay? Feelings come and go... and they, can’t be trusted.”  

And in that moment, as Love gazed down at me, with a look that didn’t belong to any Love I thought I knew, I didn’t love her.

I feared her.  

I left with an abrupt farewell, leaving the muffin behind due to a sudden loss of appetite. The moment I got home, I began packing my things to move with my brother.  

As months passed, I’ll admit, I couldn’t help but keep tabs on Love. While the things she’d said to me had frightened me in a way I couldn’t understand, curiosity got the best of me; maybe I could uncover whatever secret she held that separated her from the Love I thought I’d loved. I watched as she married Will, had a child with him, moved to Madre Linda to have more privacy (not enough to evade my stalking).  

All through that time, I tried to bring up what had happened with my brother. He called me paranoid, told me I was overthinking or reading into her words, but I never backed down. The Love I’d seen that morning was someone to be wary of. I wanted to prove it to him so badly.  

Until she died.

The story managed to make it to a news channel in LA, so it required no stalking on my part. After sending out a suicide note, Love had burned down her home, with her and Joe inside. No one yet knew what had become of their son, Henry, but they’d found remains of the two of them in the aftermath of the fire.  

“Fucking hell,” my brother murmured, resting his head in one hand as he watched the article play out. “When you told me she was crazy...” He waved his other hand at the TV. “I’d never expected this.”  

I bit my lip and asked him to change the channel. I stared at the TV, trying to keep my attention on the mindless sitcom he’d switched it to. It bugged me, that after I’d been honest and open for the first time in all my life, I’d been given dishonesty and mystery in return. But, of course, there was nothing I could do now. There was no way I could find out what she’d meant that day, or what she’d done that made her someone to be afraid of.  

Maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, and forget all about Love Quinn.

[littlegreenplumbob]

welcome to littlegreenplumbob's saved games :

as you're about to see, my saved games vary few and far between. i used to start a new game every single time i wanted to play the sims - but now i have a good amount of key saves that i like to go back and visit and update every now and then :) you'll also see i am extremely picky with which games i play more than others oops

DISCOVERY SAVE:

as the name suggests, this is my save file put in place in order for me to have full creative exploration of any dlc. i've mainly used this to play test things like the interactive careers and most recently, making rental residentials. i'm also currently exploring the idea of a BIG family, with 7 sims and 2 pets.

NSB:

you've heard of it, you know it, you love it - the not so berry challenge is my most frequently visited save file. i've got some updates incoming for the berri-behrs, is this save file photo a sneak peak? it most definatly is bc with my work ethic you won't get an update post until next year.

POSTCARD LEGACY:

another legacy challenge! i've barely even touched this in comparison to nsb, mainly as my ultimate sims goal is to complete the nsb challenge so my postcard legacy has i think maybe 3 sims days played? anyways, once im done w nsb i think i'll switch over to a postcard legacy. this save is more of a exploring one to familiarise myself with the rules and such.

CHEFFIN':

when home chef hustle came out i was obsessed with the idea of a home cook and thats exactly what this save file is. my sim is a home chef, trying to increase her skill, while learning gardening and caring after her 2 puppies, burger and barbie (que). at the same time, she also attends university. this is just a little cute save, dare i say quite relaxing at times?

SAVE FILE:

i've always wanted to make a completely revamped save file of all townies and all lots, and this is my attempt! it's something of a mammoth challenge to me and one that i can get extremely mind numb of in minutes but im still desperate to do it. it's another one of my major sims goals that i've had since i started playing a decade ago.

100 BABY WITH TOWNIES:

just like the name suggests. i've never shown loads of interest in the 100 baby challenge through the years, it's definitely something my younger self would do. (although i do stalk simstas and simblrs of it because you lot amaze me that you can stick to it) despite that it is pretty cool and some little part of me at least wants to give it a go, hence why just the one baby for now (bob pancakes' offspring may i add)

LEGACY CHALLENGE:

awww my little cute legacy challenge! which i haven't playing in a whopping 8 months mostly completely due to the fact that with a lot of the sims in that save have that glitched acne thing as adults and my eyelashes are glitchy. and idk, that just puts me off playing. but who knows, maybe in 4 months i'll open it back up again?